Pope Benedict XVI says, «When someone has the experience of a great love in his life, this is a moment of “redemption” which gives a new meaning to his life» (Spe Salvi, 26). Love is the sense of life and the secret of happiness. The lovers know it through direct experience and those who look at them perceive it immediately: their countenance is luminous, their eyes shine with joy. Is there anything more beautiful than this? Time seems to be suspended; daily life is transfigured before the magic moment of charm: «How beautiful you are!».

However, is it possible to live like this? Is it possible to live out of charm and poetry? What does Scripture say about it? Which indications emerge from the Song of Songs?  I shall articulate my reflection in three moments: charm, desire and search in the night.

The charm

Charm is the first moment. Beauty is irresistible attraction; it fascinates the eyes and the heart. God is the utmost Beauty. In his Lauds to the Most High, Francis repeats in ecstasy, «You are beauty». 

According to the Bible, the beauty of the Creator is reflected by creation, inseparably from wisdom that precedes the creating act and is «more beautiful than the sun» (Wisdom 7,29). The wise beauty of our Creator is reflected by everything in creation. Therefore, nature is not simply ornamental in the Son of Songs, but agreeable with the couple of lovers; it contributes to their dream of love. Charm takes place in nature and the love poem of the Song of Songs nurtures itself with its splendid images: she is like a «dove», he is like a «little deer» or the young of a gazelle” (Song of Songs: 2,8-14). The two lovers beat in syntony with nature. The meeting place is the green colour, in the sweet scent of the Eastern gardens, under the cedars and the palms, in a springtime countryside still wet with dew, «In the early morning we will go to the vineyard; we will see if the vines are budding, if their blossoms are opening, if the pomegranate trees are in flower. Then I shall give you the gift of my love!» (Song of Songs: 7, 13).

However, how to discern true charm from Love? Any idol charms as well! Evil itself has its own attractive force, as well as «Lucifer, the son of dawn» (Is 14,12; cf. Ezekiel; 28,17).

In Eden the first human couple was fascinated by the forbidden fruit, beautiful at their gaze, «pleasing to the eye…and enticing for the wisdom that it could give» (Genesis: n 3,7-10).

Therefore, what charm does Shir hashirim, the Song of Songs, namely the most sublime song, speak of? More than nature wounded by sin, it is the situation of the original beauty that mirrors in it. Nakedness is not a motive for shame at all, but a motive for contemplation and joy. The feminine body is exalted in all its parts, with an ascending as well as descending view. (Song of Songs: 4,1-7; 6,4-9); similarly the male body (Sg. 5,9-16). All the senses are involved: the mouth that kisses and tastes (your love is tastier than wine), the smell with its instinctive basic function in intimate relations and different perfumes which, above all in the East are an irreplaceable contour; the touch with embraces and caresses, the hearing and the sight, «show me your face, let me hear your voice…» (Sg. 2,14).

Everything adds, contributes to the charm, like a single curl of its hair or a glance to charm the beloved and to ravish his heart, «You ravish my heart, my sister, my promised bride, you ravish my heart with a single one of your glances, with a single link of your necklace» (Sg. 4, 9).

Passing from the level of reality to the symbolic one, where the two lovers pre-figure respectively Israel/Church and Christ/God, what does charm mean? How not to be astonished at the thought that God takes his creature for His spouse and falls madly in love with it? Yet it is just this that the Song of Songs appeals to in syntony with the voice of the prophets, first of all with the voice of Hosea. This presents to us a God in love with his, adulterous and unfaithful people/spouse. He does not desist from conquering her, but attracts her and takes her to the desert and speaks to her heart (See. Hosea: 2,16-25). This is the source of Love, eros and divine mercy simultaneously! The charm is not ours firstly, but His, «Look, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands…» (Is 49, 16).

The desire

Undoubtedly, the desire –strongly erotic- is the dominant note of the Song of Songs. The most beautiful thing is that the desire here appears freed from every overwhelming dominion. Differently from Genesis 3,16, where we read, «…your yearning (teshuqah) will be for your husband, and he will dominate you»”, the girl-lover of the Song of Songs experiences the joy of a full reciprocity, «My love (dodi) is mine and I am his» (Sg. 2,16; 6,3), and filled with enthusiasm she can say, «I belong to my love (dodi) and his desire (teshuqah)is for me» (Sg. 7,11).

This is a true reversal of situation: she feels the passionate force of her man and this gratifies her fully. Thus, she can state not only of loving, but also of being loved, without any overwhelming dominion, but in purity and freedom.

The desire in the Song of Songs is full and vibrant, but also evasive. The two lovers seek each other, meet and stay together, but all of a sudden the curtain drops and they find themselves far from each other. The structure of this poem is eloquent with this regard and, to me, it is a drama in six acts¹. The first five acts open on the same way with the two who are separated: he is on a side and she on the other. This is not so in the last act where the two advance together, she being tenderly leaning on her beloved. Has the time of crowning a dream finally arrived? Has the bridal time of everlasting union come? Not yet, because surprisingly the last word is farewell. She say to her love, «Haste away, my love!» (Sg. 8,14). Thus, the Song starts with the two separated lovers and they end by being separated again.

Is this the end of everything, or does the play start again? To me, the girl invites her love to haste away so that she may wait for him once again….From the structure it emerges that towards the end the cycle starts all over again. It is an uninterrupted sequence of seeking each other. We could make this type of hypothesis: five acts are over, while the sixth one is open for the seventh one, which is still to be written…or better, you go on writing it in your life. 

The research of night

Research is a dimension that crosses the entire Song of Songs, but twice it happens at night with anguish and travail. All of a sudden the bed-room, a place of intimacy, changes into a place of terror, «At night», she says alluding to the wakefulness of an unending night, «I sought the man who is my sweetheart. I sought, but could not find him…» (Sg. 3,1).

What had happened? Was it a bad dream or a reality? Had her love gone without informing her, or had he never been in that bed where she stretched her hand and found an empty space? This is about the night, the deep emptiness particularly experienced by the mystics, «Where did you hide yourself, o my Beloved, leaving me in my groaning?”, St John of the Cross exclaims in his spiritual canticle.

The poet describes most efficaciously the anguish of the girl sweetheart who seeks relentlessly and is unable to reconcile herself, «Aqma, I shall get up –she says- and go through the city; in the streets and in the squares, I shall seek my sweetheart. I sought, but could not find him» (Sg 3, 2). Similarly, Mary Magdalene before the empty tomb, «They have taken my Lord away, and I do not know where they put him», she said to the angels. And to the presumed gardener, «Sir, if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him and I will go and remove him» (John: 20,13.15).

The girl sweetheart of the Song challenges the night with all of its dangers. She advances along the solitary and dark streets of the city, searching in every corner, calling her love, but all in vain, «I sought, but could not find him!» (Sg. 3,2). What a disappointment!

Here is, however, a glow of torches, a noise of steps and masculine voices: they are the night-watchmen of the city, «have you seen the sweetheart of my soul?», she asked filled with hope. No answer, just as if nobody had heard anything, the watchmen went on their own way, undeterred. On the following night she went through a worse incident, «The watchmen met me, those who go on their rounds in the city. They beat me, they wounded me, they took my cloak away from me...» (Sg. 5, 7).

On the same second night there was another element that made the scene more complicated and exacerbated its drama: she felt guilty for not being quick in opening the door when he was calling her. What happened? The text starts from her being half-asleep, a typical situation of sweethearts. This is a very beautiful passage in which we see how she lives the happening again and narrates it:

I sleep, but my heart is awake.
I hear my love knocking.
«Open to me, my sister, my beloved,  
my dove, my perfect one,
for my head is wet with dew,
my hair with the drops of night.
I have taken off my tunic,
Am I to put it on again?
I have washed my feet,  
Am I to dirty them again?
My love thrust his hand
Through the hole in the door;
I trembled to the core of my being.
Then I got up
To open to my love,
Myrrh ran off my hands,
Pure myrrh off my fingers,
on to the handle of the bolt.
I opened to my love,  
but he had turned and gone.
My soul failed at his flight,
I sought but could not find him,
I called, but he did not answer (Sg. 5,2-6).

The sweetheart knocks, but above all he speaks, «Open to me, my sister, my beloved…». His head is wet with dew; he has the humidity and the cold of the night on, desires to enter and to warm himself.

It is strange: she loves and desires him much, yet now she is bashful! Is it laziness or coquetry? Anyhow, when she becomes aware that he tries to open the door by raising the handle of the bolt, she trembles, gets up and runs to open. What a pity! Her love has disappeared, he is there no longer. Myrrh and its sweet scent are still on the handle of the door, but he has gone away. Seized by anguish, then, she goes out in the heart of the night with the anxiety of a searching without result, «I sought but could not find him,

I called, but he did not answer» (Sg. 5,2-6).

Discredited by the watchmen who beat her and snatch her veil away from her, the young lover has no other chance but that of turning to her friends, the daughters of Jerusalem. She entrusts them with a message: «If you should find my love, what are you to tell him? Tell him that I am sick with love»” (Sg. 5, 8; cf. 2, 5). She needs him absolutely; she cannot miss him!

The Judaic tradition has interpreted the heart-felt request of the boyfriend and the resistance of the girlfriend as a reference to the dramatic experience of exile. However, in the Apocalypse, the image of the beloved who knocks at the door refers to the risen Lord who says,   «Look, I am standing at the door knocking. If one of you hear me calling and opens the door, I will come in to share a meal at that person’s side» (Rv. 3, 20). Love does not use violence, but knocks, waits, promises intimacy, expressed by the image of dining together. Love likes also to play hide and seek and wants to be sought. 

I remember a story of Chassidim, narrated by Martin Buber: «One day Jehiel, the nephew of Rabbi Baruch, was playing hide and seek with another boy. He hid himself very well and waited for his companion to seek him. After a long waiting, he got out of his hiding-place, but could not see the other. Thus Jehiel became aware that the companion had never looked for him. He cried, ran to the room of his grandfather and complained against his companion of games. The eyes of Rabbi Baruch became wet with tears and he said, “This is what God says: I hide myself, but nobody wants to seek me” ².

He who searches man from eternity, expects to be sought, even at night, until the rising of a cry, «Here is the bridegroom, go out and meet him!» (Mt 25,5).

Note

1. Cf E. Bosetti, Il cantico dei Cantici. «Tu che il mio cuore ama». San Paolo, Milano ²2006.
2. M. Buber, I racconti dei Chassdim, Garzanti, Milano 1985, 140.

Elena Bosetti
Docente alla Pontificia Università Gregoriana
 c/o  Figlie della Croce
Via dell’Arancio, 68 – 00186 Roma